


Make a Name for Yourself

by heroictype (swanreaper)



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanreaper/pseuds/heroictype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dios was saved from death by his sister, but the Prince was gone. He traveled, taking on many different names and being many different people. But Anthy built her name up around herself. She never changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make a Name for Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a particular post on Welcome to Ohtori: http://welcometoohtori.tumblr.com/post/78697623037/image-anthy-in-her-rose-bride-outfit-staring

“ _Anthy.”_

_There was a tingling at the base of her spine that should have been a shudder, but it had been a long time since reflex had any sway over her. She turned, smiling gracefully._

“ _Yes, brother?”_

_He had stepped close to her, so close that she needed to lift her chin to give him the full weight of her smile. His hand was already around her back, fingertips pressed right where sensation had almost blossomed a moment ago._

“ _Come with me.”_

_She nodded, as she did each time he asked, but she did not go with him. She only followed after, for the witch must always stand in the prince’s shadow, filling the darkness. Yet with each step he took, she found that Dios grew smaller, and she had nowhere to hide. Her brother cut Dios away into ever smaller pieces, and soon she only had a trail of blood to go by. Her brother became others, took on other names._

_She was grateful, as her brother led her through mud, through ash and decay. At least Dios was clean when he died._

_She lived on, instead, and kept her name. Anthy. She could not change who she was, the witch who stole the prince from the people. She could not turn away from the crumbling ruins of the world that had stolen everything else. So while she looked on, Anthy sowed their fields with salt and smiled. Then her brother made the choice to leave, to shed another layer of Dios’ skin, and she followed._

_So the mud and ash and decay coated her name, instead of his, thick on the tongues of those who spoke it. On her brother’s especially._

_When she was weak, it nearly devoured her, tearing her flesh apart with a vicious, hot enthusiasm that the cold steel lacked._

_Anthy. Anthy. Anthy. With a chuckle. With a shake of the head. His tongue destroyed her, and she dug her claws into him in turn. Carefully groomed, as they had to be, to the sharpest points. She alone knew how to wound him, because she knew where he hid his pride._

_But it wasn’t as though she could truly blame her poor, gentle brother. She could never stay angry at Dios, and her shame was worse afterward. Soon, she could not bring herself to touch him at all, except when he demanded it._

_So she never tried to wash the blood from her name. Sometimes it even belonged to others, although more often, it flowed from those innumerable wounds that decorated her body. That was the only beautiful thing about her: the only sacrifice she could make. She spoiled the name of the witch to preserve Dios’ only monument._


End file.
